The muscles in her legs were contracting painfully.
She rested her hands on his chest, but they didn't stay, instead running over the muscles of his chest and around to his back.
The muscles in her legs felt numb.
Dusty's jaw clenched until he felt the muscles tick.
The muscles on his chest and arms were not well defined.
The movement brought a painful awareness of how stiff her muscles were becoming.
He towered over them both, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining against his shirt as he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.
His hands worked up her back moving gradually as he massaged every inch of the muscles on either side of her spine.
The muscles in Howard's jaws worked with rage.
His jaw muscles worked.
He glanced at the whip and his jaw muscles worked.
Actually, her legs felt like stumps and her groin muscles were knotted with pain.
Suddenly strong fingers began working her shoulder muscles, delightfully descending to the muscles on either side of her spine.
Instead, her fingers slid across the smooth muscles and up to his neck, drawing his mouth down harder on hers.
She pushed away from the ground stiffly and rubbed at the sore muscles in her back while she surveyed the house.
He doesn't have complete control of his muscles yet.
His long, sleek hair was tied in a tight braid, and despite the cold and wind he wore only a long-sleeved sweater that hugged the muscles of his arms and shoulders beneath a down vest.
She was soon soaked by a light drizzle and stretched to keep her stiffening muscles warm.
Her eyes traveled over the image of him training others, his whip-like upper body bare to reveal the roped muscles of his shoulders and chest, the tucked waist and flat abs.
There was a chill, but once Dean began warming his muscles he felt comfortable in this familiar posture.
She didn't remember his passion, the way he tasted and smelled and felt, or the movement of his muscles beneath taut, smooth skin.
Yet he still couldn't control his facial muscles or speak.
Lacing fingers behind her neck, she arched back, feeling the muscles in her back stretch.
His jaw was clenched and ticking as the muscles jumped.
By the time she clawed her way over the edge, she was soaked with sweat and panting, her muscles burning from effort.
She felt both awed and terrified watching his rippling, shapely muscles move beneath the olive skin.
His muscles were so bunched, they ached when he shook them free.
He relaxed and tested the muscles of his arm again, dissatisfied with being injured.
The muscles of his upper body bulged as he sparred, their changing shapes amplified by a play of shade and sunlight.
His back was towards her, the expanse of golden skin stretched over bulging muscles startling her.
His arms were huge, his muscles long and lean.
His teeth were grinding loudly enough for her to hear, and his face was ashen and drawn in a look of pain. He couldn't answer – that much she discerned at the rippling muscles of his clenched jaw.
While Dean stretched his muscles and alternated between bites of peanut butter sandwich and a banana, Fred perused the rest of the master lists.
The first day was behind him, his muscles weren't overly sore, he seemed to be adjusting to the altitude and he had conquered more hills in one day than a year of Pennsylvania biking would offer.
Indigo jeans outlined the long lean muscles in his thighs, and the sleeves of his western shirt were rolled up to reveal tanned muscular forearms.
They were so graceful, their muscles rippling under shiny coats as they moved.
Her muscles felt relaxed for the first time in weeks.
He was covered in sweat, the muscles of his exposed back rippling with his movement.
She could think of nothing more than his bare skin against hers, of the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers.
He loved war, the all consuming sensations of battle from the metallic scent of weapons and blood to the burn of his muscles as he fought beyond his normal capabilities.
Her breathing was labored, her chest burning and muscles shaking from the demon's abuse of her body.
Vara's jaw clenched hard enough for muscles on either side to tick.
The thought of a hot bath made her muscles quake with anticipation.
He ate and sipped the cider, its warmth making his muscles relax.
It was taking his muscles a long time to stretch.
If you like having sore muscles at the end of a day or working a job that requires little of your mental capacity so you can contemplate Nietzsche, hey, more power to you.
Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count's face began to twitch.
She had to eat, sleep, think, speak, weep, work, give vent to her anger, and so on, merely because she had a stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a liver.
By the time she reached the top of the hill, the muscles in her legs were aching.
She tried to work the muscles in her lower back with her fingertips, but the effort was worse than the benefit.
His jaw muscles worked as he spun on one heel and marched to the outside door, slamming it as he left.
I don't want her muscles turning to jelly.
She absently traced a hand down his shoulder and large bicep to the roped muscles of his forearm.
She slowly slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the feel of the smooth muscles beneath his shirt.
Her legs were wobbly, the muscles of her inner thighs stiff.
Then the muscles in his leg tightened and she stepped back, allowing him to dismount.
Her muscles were tense enough to ache.
Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, pure-bred, red- spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with muscles like steel, a delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes.
His long, lean muscles bulged with the workout.
He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched hard enough for the muscles to tick.
His shirt stretched tightly over his shoulders and across his back while his biceps flexed and the roped muscles of his forearms rippled with his tinkering.
But the indigo jeans hugged his lean hips in a tantalizing way and outlined the long muscles in his thighs.
His fingers left her neck, working down the muscles on either side of her spine.
His fingers were gently massaging the muscles on either side of her backbone - warm and relaxing.
The muscles worked in his jaw and he glanced away.
The tall Guardian was built like a model with the long, lean muscles of a ballerina.
His fingers slipped under her shirt, warmly working at the muscles in her back.